


Lines in the Sand

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drowning, F/M, Post-Game(s), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sereda is captured by the Crows, years after she's joined Zevran in Antiva to dismantle the organization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines in the Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 4 of Zevran x Warden Week! And written using prompt #120: drowning from the inkstay daretowrite challenge.

There are a lot of things that Sereda has come to love since coming to the surface.  The sky, while terrifying, is beautiful, and Zevran tells her sweet stories about the stars that come out at night.  She’s pretty sure that he’s making up most of them (that there’s a constellation devoted to Sereda’s beauty- according to Zevran- was the big tip off), but there’s very little better than listening to his soothing voice while she stares up into the great big sky.  

Perhaps what enchants her the most is all the water.  The first time she saw Lake Calenhad, it took her breath away, and when she saw the Waking Sea, the water stretching out until it reached the sky, all she could do is stare and try to absorb the immensity of what she was seeing.  

Sereda can’t swim, of course.  There’s no big stretches of water in Orzammar, and it’s not like she had a lot of time to learn while fighting the Blight.  Zevran has promised to teach her, now that they’re in Antiva, where the beaches are plentiful and, while he does have an important mission to accomplish, there’s a little less  _ the world is ending _ involved that makes it slightly less urgent.  

“Ah, my dear!” Zevran had exclaimed when he had found out that she can’t swim.  “It is good I did not know before!  Or else I would have pushed you off a dock and been done with it.  You must learn.”

It’s sweet how he worries, really.  

The water in her ears makes everything sound so far away, and it gives her a good excuse to ignore the Crow interrogating her.  He’s tall, or at least a human, who all seem pretty tall to her.  In another world, he’s a handsome man, with carefully sculpted cheekbones and an easy smile, but in this world, his face is twisted with hatred and Sereda’s bias against people who torture her make her unable to see him as anything but incredibly ugly.  

She doesn’t need to hear him to know what he’s saying.  Thus far, he hasn’t asked her any questions.  All he’s done is say that their quest is impossible, insult her, insinuate that Zevran is using her, or else why wouldn’t he rescue her already?  If he thinks that he’s going to be able to somehow undermine their relationship, he’s got another thing coming.  It’s almost a funny thought.

When she just stares at him blankly, his ugly face contorts in ugly anger and he tips her chair forward.  Gravity makes her strain at her bonds, even though she pushes herself as close to her chair as possible.  It’s all in vain because there’s no way to escape the tub of water in front of her.

The first bit of being submerged is almost pleasant. The water is cool and soothing against her cheeks, and she has enough air in her lungs to last almost a full minute without pain.  The bottom of the tub is much prettier than her torturer’s face and the roaring in her ears a much more pleasant sound than his voice.  

But then her lungs run out of air and burn and breathing in only makes the burning worse.  Water rushes into her lungs where air should be and all she can do is thrash weakly.  She doesn’t remember the last time she’s eaten, but they haven’t fed her at all.  

Breathing air again always hurts at first, but she breathes it in gratefully.  The water sputters out of her lungs in fits and spurts.  It dribbles down her body, unnoticeable because of how soaked her clothes are.  

They leave her alone for a while, untying her.  She rubs her hands up and down her arms, hoping to generate some kind of heat.  Her whole body is covered in goosebumps.  She would kill for a fire.  She would kill any of them, just because.

As a matter of principle, she walks the perimeter of the room on shaky legs, trying to find a way out of her cell.  The Crows are careful, however, and there’s nothing she can use to escape.  It’s just an empty room, except her chair (bolted to the floor) and the tub of water (which she’s too weak to move), and the torch (too high for her to reach).  No windows, no vents, no way out except through the front door.  

With no way to see outside, Sereda has no idea how much time passes.  She tries to get a little sleep, curled up on the floor, but it’s very hard to sleep when you’re cold and soaked to the bone.  The past few years, she’s become very accustomed to having Zevran curled up with her and she finds it hard to sleep without him even under the best of circumstances.  

The screams from the other cells don’t help matters any.

When they come back, there’s dozen of them, as always.  The numbers make sure she can’t jump them, and she truly curses the Crows for their thoroughness.  So many other people discount her because she’s a dwarven woman, but not the Crows.  

There’s a thousand different things they could do to her, but they just tie her to the chair and dunk her underwater again.  Her lungs burn and they don’t pull her back up.  This is such an ignoble way to go, dunked underwater, but she does enjoy the water.  Maybe there are worse ways to go.  

She drags a picture of Zevran to the forefront of her consciousness, even though it’s slipping away.  Her beautiful, handsome lover.  He was going to be her husband, when they got around to saying vows.  Oh, she’s okay with dying for this.  The chance to love someone and be loved so wholly in return is worth dying for.  

Maybe drowning is actually an appropriate way for her to go, all things considered.  Loving Zevran had felt like drowning sometimes.  He had been easy to get lost in, except she never really wanted to come up for air.  

Something kicks her chair and she’s jerked around in the water.  Her head is still submerged under water, but something unusual is happening.  She’d be more excited, but she can’t breathe.  

The something kicks her chair again, harder this time, and her cheek bashes against the edge of the tub.  But this time the something is enough to get her head out of the tub altogether, making her land on the floor, hard on her side, so she forgives it.

Sereda can’t tell who it is who knocked her over, but she can hear the yells of people dying, which is something.  Her throat burns as she vomits up more water.  She hopes it’s Zevran come to rescue her; if she gets caught in some inter House Antivan Crow power struggle, she’s going to be mad.  

“She’s in here!” a strange man’s voice yells.  Not Zevran.

The man in question kneels beside her, carefully slicing through her restraints with a dagger.  Sensing that she finally has an opportunity, she shoves him as soon as she’s free, grabbing his dagger and running for the door.  

Her legs shake as she bolts down the hall, every last bit of her strength going into this.  She’s going to make it out of here or die trying.  The path out is fuzzy in her mind, but she figures if she keeps moving, she’ll make it out eventually.

There’s only so long that she can keep going, however, with her lungs burning and her body gnawing at her from the inside.  Maybe if she hides somewhere, she can make them think that she’s escaped and then they’ll leave and she can actually escape.

When she sees a dumbwaiter, short and wide like she is, she knows it’s her best chance.  She drags herself inside and shuts the door before collapsing in a heap.  Her heart is beating so fast that it feels dangerous, and she desperately wants to be back in Zevran’s arms.  

She hears footsteps go past her, and she holds her breath as long as she can.  At least she’s gotten better at it over the last few days.  

“You didn’t tell her you were with me?” oh,  _ oh _ .  “You thought that after being tortured for days, she was going to be in a trusting mood?”

“I-I’m sorry,” the man says.  

“Zevran?” Sereda says hesitantly, voice aching in her throat.

“Sereda?” Zevran’s voice is bewildered.  

“If you’re not Zevran, I’m going to stab you and you’re going to die,” Sereda warns.  

“Then it is good that I am Zevran, yes?” Zevran says, shooing the other man away.  

Sereda opens the dumbwaiter door hesitantly, not quite trusting herself.  She wants it to be him so badly.  

And then he’s standing there, looking scared and angry until he sees her.  Then he’s smiling reassuringly.  

The dagger clatters to the ground as Sereda crawls out of the dumbwaiter, shoving herself into Zevran’s arms.  He’s so warm, his arms pulling her close and gripping her tightly.  She’s shaking from cold, from exhaustion, from finally being safe.

“I’m getting you wet,” Sereda mutters, pulling away weakly.

“My dear Sereda, nothing could be more inconsequential.  I am just glad that we are together once more,” Zevran says.  

“Me, too,” Sereda says, burrowing her face in his chest.  “I missed you.”

“As I missed you.  Come, we’ll find you warm, dry clothes,” Zevran says.  

“And some food.  They, uh, haven’t been feeding me,” Sereda says.  “I am  _ very  _ hydrated, though.”

Anger flashes hot across Zevran’s face as he nods.  “We will find you everything you need, my dear Warden.”

* * *

Once she has dry clothes and some bread to gnaw on, Zevran checks her over thoroughly as she explains what they did to her.  She spares no detail, and by the time she’s done, Zevran is shaking with rage.  It’s not like him to be so obvious with his feelings, but if there’s anything that’s sure to set him off, it’s hurting her.  

“Perhaps… We should take their offer,” Zevran says, the words sounding like poison coming from his mouth.  “End this now.”

“What?  No,” Sereda says.  She’s curled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his arm around her, but she pulls away to look up at him.  His jaw is set.  “You’ve never considered letting the Crows stand.  Destroy the whole organization, you said.”

She’s been fully supportive of the choices he’s made, even when she’s disagreed, just as he supported her during the Blight.  But this is different.  Unless he has a very good reason, she’s not going to let him take the Crow’s offer: they both leave Antiva forever, and the Crows will never bother them again.  

“Yes, I know, but perhaps I was wrong.  Perhaps, we could travel, or return to Ferelden.  We both greatly enjoyed our time there, and I am certain that there’s more for us to see,” Zevran says.  

“Tell me what this is all about.  My brain is too waterlogged to put it together,” Sereda says.  

Zevran’s smile is tight and pained.  “You were tortured and hurt because of me.  I can’t risk this happening again.  I won’t lose you, Sereda.  Not even to destroy the Crows.”

“I was tortured and hurt because I got sloppy and overconfident.  Trust me, I’m not about to make that mistake again,” Sereda says with a strained laugh.  

Zevran gets up and Sereda misses his warmth instantly.  He paces back and forth in front of her.  His bedraggled, pained appearance is in stark contrast to the brightly decorated interior of the dead Crow’s villa.  The Crows may be evil sadists that buy kids as slaves and have them kill each other, but they sure do have a sense of interior design.  

“If it wasn’t for me, you would be back in Ferelden running the Grey Wardens there, with Alistair and all your new friends nearby.  Or perhaps Orzammar, being worshiped as you ought to be,” Zevran says.  

“Ah, yes.  Between dealing with darkspawn, dealing with my brother, or being with the person I love, I definitely would rather deal with my murderous brother,” Sereda says dryly.  “We get along so well these days.  Last time I visited, he didn’t even frame me for murder.”

Zevran runs his hand through his hair.  “You could have been killed.”

“That’s a risk we both take every single day.  And I could be killed in Ferelden or Orzammar just as easily,” Sereda points out.  “The executed me in Orzammar once.  It didn’t work, but they did try.” 

Zevran keeps pacing, shaking.  His hands curl into fists and then relax over and over again, like he doesn’t know what to do.  

“How are you so calm?” Zevran asks.  

Sereda blinks.  “I’m exhausted.  Deeply, deeply exhausted.  Also, it’s way harder to see someone you love hurt than to be hurt yourself.  So a little bit of both.  If the positions were reversed, I would have put my fist through the wall already, I’m sure.”  

“That makes sense,” Zevran says.  

“I’ve been told I’m kind of smart,” Sereda says.  

Zevran comes to sit next to her on the couch, not quite touching her.  He runs his gaze over her messy, damp hair and her exhausted face.  There must be deep bags under her eyes.  He lingers on her cheekbone, where her face had bashed against the tub when she was being rescued.  

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Sereda says, reaching up to skim her fingers over the bruise.  “He was trying to keep me from drowning while fighting several Crows.  I’m impressed.”

“You are still painfully beautiful,” Zevran murmurs.  

“Good,” Sereda says.  “If you could be scared off by a bruise, I’d be concerned.”

Zevran laughs, cupping her non-bruised cheek.  “Nothing about you could ever scare me off.”

“That’s good because I really, really love you,” Sereda says.  

“That is why I think we should take the deal.  You could have been killed.  I spent the whole time imagining finding you dead in all kinds of painful, horrible ways,” Zevran says.  “I love you too much to lose you.”  

A little seed of understanding worms its way into her brain, but she’s not quite sure what it means yet.  It’s an almost idea, and she’s worried that if they keep talking, it’ll disappear into nothing.  

“Let's go to bed,” Sereda says.  “I’m exhausted.  We can talk more in the morning, and I have missed your arms around me.”

Zevran nods.  “As you wish, my dear.”

* * *

Sereda sleeps soundly with her head on Zevran’s chest and his arms around her.  They cling to each other, like they’ve been separated for long years and not long days.  She’s glad she doesn’t dream, because she knows that she would dream of water in her lungs, of being held down until there’s nothing left but the burning in every part of her body.  

“Zevran!” Sereda says in the morning.  The seed has bloomed and blossomed overnight, and now that she has the energy to think, she knows what it all meant.  

“Are you alright?” Zevran asks.  There are dark bags under his eyes and he’s scarily pale.  Honestly, Sereda wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed up all night.  

“Yeah!  Zevran, we have to keep fighting.  Giving up is what they want,” Sereda says.  

“But there are benefits for us as well,” Zevran says.  

“Why didn’t they kill me?  They had me for days.  Why not kill me?  Why not let all the Crows in the place have a go at doing whatever they wanted to me first?” Sereda asks.  “They could have left you with something truly nasty to find.”

The way his jaw instantly sets and anger flares in his eyes at the mere suggestion makes her think that she’s right.  “They wanted information on our operation in Antiva.” 

“No.  The man didn’t ask me a single question.  Not about you, not about safehouses, not about the children you’ve rescued.  None of it.  He just talked about how impossible what we were doing is.  How you’re just one angry, expendable Crow who can’t possibly take down the whole guild,” Sereda explains.  

Zevran frowns.  “Why wouldn’t they try to learn more?”

“I think they’re scared.  I think they want you to give up.  Think- you got so angry just at the mention of what they could have done to me.  But they didn’t even strip me naked, like an awful lot of places do when they torture you.  What they did left very few visible signs behind; they didn’t even give me the bruise,” Sereda says with a strange feeling of excitement.  

“If they had killed you or violated you, there’s nothing that they could offer that would stop me from killing every last blasted Crow,” Zevran says.  “Not gold, not if they all offered to travel to the unknown lands in the West, not if they slit their own throats, nothing.”

“Yeah, I know.  And I’m sure they know that too.  They’re terrified of you, Zevran, even more terrified than they let on.  They know that you can take them all down,” Sereda says.  “So do I.  The Crows want you to leave Antiva, so they decided to scare you, but they didn’t want to anger you.”

“That is a crafty, underhanded plan that sounds exactly like the Crows,” Zevran says, and Sereda can see him absorbing this new information.

Sereda snuggles back against him, eyes closing.  “Whether you decide to stay or not, I’ll support you, but I really think we should stay.  Destroy them all so we never have to worry about them again.”

His fingers trail up and down her back as he thinks, and Sereda just enjoys herself.  He’s so tender, so loving.  Every day, she feels so lucky that Howe decided to hire the Antivan Crows and that Zevran took the contract on her life.  

“Sereda,” Zevran murmurs softly some time later.  “We are staying to destroy the Antivan Crows.”

Sereda smiles.  She couldn’t be prouder.  


End file.
